BeautyHack columnist Tatyana Yakimova - about world cuisine, incomprehensible words and the fact that our children live better than us, which is right.
Recently, my old friend Asya moved from a modest country house to an immodest one - impressive. She arranged it as she wanted, invited her daughter and her family for the weekend. And suddenly there was a conflict. Old as the world - fathers and children.
I must say that Asya is a multifaceted personality: at the same time a businesswoman, a creative person and a little boring. She has a pottery workshop, a library, a winter garden, a balcony with a barbecue, and a huge kitchen. In the process of cooking, Asya sings all the time something like “Oh, give me some ridiculous mats”. The dining room in the house is even larger than the kitchen, it is empty, floor-to-ceiling windows and echoing vaults.
Until recently, Asya worked in a large construction company 24/7, rarely saw her daughter. Now she is gradually retiring from business and decided to establish communication. She invited me. And not a day passed - everyone quarreled.
The children left, Asya burst into tears and called me to pour out her soul.
- Well, Asya, tell me - why did the children run away?
- Because they want to live the way they want!
An ingenious answer.
- Asenka, you and I wanted the same at their age. And they did.
It turned out: they are raising a grandson in the wrong way.
First, little Nikolai calls his own mother Nick and likes to repeat "I am Nick, and my mother is Nick." That's terrible.
Secondly, the grandson does not go to the garden. He has a nanny. English teacher and fitness instructor. Why does such a kid need a fitness instructor?
Thirdly, the grandson has too many restrictions. He doesn't eat: flour after four, fried cutlets never, and no more than one candy a day.
But most importantly: the kid speaks a bunch of foreign words. Here his grandmother cooked pasta with minced meat. “Oh,” he says. - Bolognese! " No, navy-style pasta. Bolognese, grandma, I know I ate in Italy. Only the tomato sauce is missing. And my grandmother was not in Italy, she worked everything, she is pleased to hear that ?! He also drinks tea for afternoon tea with the words "five-o-clock". What is such a shred?
I widened my eyes.
In a past life, I often went on hikes, and naval pasta was my favorite dish. True, the stew most often came across dishonest: little meat, a lot of fat and fiber. So what? Everything in the pot is delicious.
But the bolognese is objectively better. There are vegetables, herbs. And the pasta is not boiled. What can I say, it's even funny to compare. Bolognese - tradition, creativity, art, fantasy, soul. Time. Navy-style macaroni - hearty and faster.
God knows I'm a little old-fashioned myself for this time. With gadgets so far "on you". I don't have Instagram, but I should. But such a denseness of a woman holding a major position in a huge construction company …
- As, you learned English at school. And I watched the series about Sherlock Holmes. Five o'clock is five hours, traditional time for English tea drinking.
- Taught, half-taught … Why on earth is English tea drinking in Moscow? Why is this snobbishness?
- Come on, come to your senses! What does snobbery have to do with it? This is when we were 20, we were on vacation in Sochi. And today our peers of those times are citizens of the world. They know such words, in comparison with which "oklok" and bolognese - babble of newborns. And rightly so, they know. Nika is your right that the boy is teaching. Let him feel himself everywhere. It's okay now, you know? And the fact that he doesn't eat fried cutlets is normal. Better yet, the bolognese. Although not every day either.
- Why is it necessary, Lord, to adapt to foreigners? Thank God I never adjusted..
A confusion hung in the air, and I dragged my old friend to fry kebabs. She relaxed by the barbecue. I cut the vegetables beautifully, for some reason took out the sausage. And again to complain: Nikolka does not recognize sausage.
- So that's good. It's delicious, of course, but not very healthy. Not for every day. And don't say now, please, that "we are at his age"!
- Cut an apple for him, and he: I want a smoothie.
- I also make smoothies for my nephew every morning. And I love myself. So many vitamins at once! Healthy and tasty.
And then she gives out: if they adapt to foreigners - why can't they match their grandmother?
Dead end.
Ah, - I say gently. - I understand you want everything your way. But you love Nika and Kolya and your son-in-law. They are your family.
You have built a family estate, you are great! But why can't your chic kitchen have room for bolognese and smoothies? If you don't want to cook yourself, don't forbid them!
Moreover, your house is not at all like a village one. Quite a foreigner.
Silent, squinting.
- And tell me, - I do not lag behind, - what annoyed you the most when you brought Veronica to your mother?
- That she fed her with pies, - the friend answers absently.
We look at each other and begin to laugh.
Ufffff.
It's cold, we go to eat barbecue in the dining room. Asya hands me a glass of wine. She has already surrendered, but at last she drops with false sadness:
Eh, there are no eternal values left …
- Is this naval pasta - eternal value ??
We laugh together again, and the huge living room answers us with a beautiful echo.
